Devil's Cocktail (Wallace of the Secret Service Series)

by Alexander Wilson

  Kamper shot him a look in which fear and surprise were equally blended.

  ‘How did you know?’ he gasped.

  ‘You were seen some weeks ago in a motor car. I think it must have been the day you arrived. Now then, come along into the corridor: I am going to ring up the police and tell them to come and collect you.’

  The Jew rose quietly enough, Hugh watching him carefully the while, prepared for an attempt at escape. But he was not quite prepared for what actually did happen. He was standing slightly sideways and close to the other man as the latter rose. Suddenly Kamper kicked hard and viciously at a spot behind Hugh’s right knee, and the latter staggered and almost fell. Before he could recover, the Jew dashed into the bathroom and away.

  Shannon was after him in a flash, but the kick had numbed his leg and when he followed the Jew outside the latter was nowhere to be seen. He hobbled down the path, searching in the bushes on either side as he went, but Kamper had completely disappeared.

  Hugh presently reached the car which was standing, of course, where he had left it, and leaning on the radiator bitterly reproached himself for not being more careful. He stood there for some time listening and endeavouring to search the darkness for a sign of the fugitive, but nothing suspicious occurred and, at last, he got into the car and drove it to the garage where he locked it up for the night.

  When he entered the house Joan was still in the sitting room reading. Apparently nothing had disturbed her.

  ‘Hullo, Hugh!’ she said. ‘You’ve been longer than I expected.’

  He smiled grimly.

  ‘I’ve been in for some time,’ he replied. ‘While you were sitting here, I was entertaining Kamper in my bedroom.’

  She looked at him in wide-eyed surprise. He told her of the Jew’s visit, and how he had let him escape.

  ‘Good gracious!’ she exclaimed. ‘I heard nothing! Are you hurt?’

  ‘No,’ he replied shortly; ‘my leg was a bit numb for a few minutes. It’s all right now! But what an utter fool I was to let him get away!’

  ‘You couldn’t help it; but why didn’t you call me? I could have telephoned to the police for you.’

  ‘I wish I had,’ he groaned. ‘That fellow is as cute as a cartload of monkeys.’

  When later Miles and Cousins returned – the latter reporting that he could not get into Rahtz’s bungalow as there was a party on, though as far as he could make out Rahtz himself seemed to be absent – Hugh repeated to them the story of his encounter with Kamper.

  ‘Rotten luck!’ sympathised Cousins over the escape.

  Miles nodded.

  ‘Perhaps it’s as well though,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Handing Kamper over to the authorities would have meant their asking an endless stream of questions.’

  ‘I would have referred them to Rainer,’ said Hugh. ‘Besides the Jew will tell the others that I have that paper with the map on it, and I have an idea that it is rather important.’

  ‘M’m, yes; that’s true!’

  ‘Let us see it!’ said Cousins.

  Hugh took it from his pocket, and handed it round. Joan examined it as eagerly as the two men.

  ‘It’s just the same as the other,’ remarked Miles, ‘except for the figures. I wonder what they mean!’

  ‘I wonder what the whole thing means,’ said Hugh almost in exasperation.

  Various explanations were mooted and put aside as being absurd, then Joan gave a little cry. The others looked at her inquiringly.

  ‘I think I’ve got it!’ she exclaimed. ‘Didn’t you say that the meeting was to be held on the twenty-first?’

  Hugh nodded eagerly.

  ‘Well,’ she went on, ‘this twenty-one stands for that date, and the eight means the time that the meeting is to be held!’

  ‘Golly!’ said Miles. ‘You’ve hit it, Miss Joan!’ She looked at him half shyly, half reproachfully. ‘I mean – Joan!’ he added with a broad smile, and she looked wholly shy.

  ‘Trust a woman’s wit!’ remarked Cousins. ‘Now let me see, there should be a quotation from—’

  ‘Never mind your quotations,’ interrupted Hugh. ‘We now know practically all there is to know about that meeting. Probably the drawing is a kind of passport those fellows carry about with them, so that they can prove their bonafides to each other.’

  ‘Far more likely,’ said Joan, ‘it is a passport to the meeting!’

  Cousins whistled; Hugh stared; Miles slapped his leg.

  ‘I’ll bet my bottom dollar she is right,’ said the American. ‘Joan has more brains than the rest of us put together.’

  ‘Well, I’ll carry one with me on the twenty-first,’ said Hugh, ‘and, if it becomes necessary, try it on.’

  ‘And I’ve got a hunch I’ll carry the other,’ said Miles.

  ‘Where do I come in?’ asked Cousins indignantly.

  ‘You, Jerry, will stay at home like a good dutiful valet.’

  ‘To borrow a little of your own picturesque phraseology,’ replied Cousins; ‘you have another think coming!’

  ‘What about the letters, Hugh?’ asked Joan.

  ‘Yes,’ said the American, ‘perhaps they contain some information.’

  Hugh went to his room and brought back the letters and other things he had taken from Kamper.

  ‘Quite a collection!’ murmured Cousins. ‘A nasty-looking knife, that! I don’t suppose he exactly carried it to trim his fingernails, so it’s as well you relieved him of it.’

  ‘He professed to have a great sentimental desire for the watch,’ remarked Hugh, ‘but that was before I found that sheet of paper in it! What are these about, Cousins?’

  He handed the letters to the other, who read them through and then handed them back with an air of disappointment.

  ‘They’re only ordinary,’ he said. ‘One is from a brother telling him about his troubles on a farm near Ivanovo, another is addressed from the post office at Nijni Novgorod telling him that his mother is dangerously ill, and the other is from his mother herself saying that she is better, but doesn’t expect to live long, and would like him to come to her.’

  Hugh grunted, while Miles grinned.

  ‘Somehow,’ he said, ‘one doesn’t associate Kamper with a mother, but I suppose he’s only human after all!’

  After dinner Miles was left alone with Joan in the sitting room – Hugh and Cousins were apparently busy elsewhere – and he made a great pretence of reading the newspaper, but his eyes kept straying to the glorious picture of young womanhood, who sat curled up in her favourite attitude in a chair before the fire. Joan was dressed in a simple little evening frock of cloudy blue georgette, which suited her colouring wonderfully. Miles thought he had never seen anything more beautiful, and likened her to an angelic figure poised on the clouds.

  Joan was reading a book, at least it would be more correct to say that she was trying to read a book, but her thoughts must have been far away, for nearly half an hour went by and she had only turned over one page though, as a rule, she read quickly. At last she even gave up trying and, putting the novel down with a sigh, sat gazing into the depths of the fire, which seemed to her to be winking at her in the most outrageous manner.

  Miles had discarded the newspaper long since, his cigar had gone out, and though he was sitting in a very comfortable chair, he had the appearance of a man who was anything but satisfied with himself. Once or twice he leant forward as though to address the silent figure near the fire, thought better of it, and sank back with a frown on his face. He took off his glasses, and polished them abstractedly … After a little while Joan turned to him, and started with surprise.

  ‘Good gracious!’ she exclaimed. ‘How different you look!’

  He smiled at her.

  ‘You mean without glasses?’ he inquired.

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘I guess it does make a difference.’ He was about to replace them when she stopped him.

  ‘Need you put them back just yet?’ she asked.

&nb
sp; ‘Not if you don’t want me to.’

  ‘I think I like you better without them – do you mind very much?’

  ‘I guess not,’ he answered. ‘I don’t wear them because I have to. They’re only plain glass!’

  ‘Why on earth wear them at all then?’ she asked in surprise.

  ‘Well, you see, Miss – er – I mean Joan, they give me the appearance of an amiable, harmless sort of guy, and I like to encourage that impression.’

  She laughed.

  ‘I don’t wonder,’ she said. ‘You don’t look harmless with them off – I mean to say,’ she added hastily, ‘you look like a man who was used to the big things of life; one who would never deviate from the path of honour and duty, who would fight to the very last to obtain what you wanted. I—oh! What nonsense I’m talking!’

  ‘Don’t say that! It’s mighty good to hear you talk in that way – Do you really feel like that about me?’

  She nodded – rather shyly. He rose and walked to the fireplace and stood looking down at her.

  ‘It might be true to a certain extent,’ he said earnestly. ‘But the thing I want most in life I can’t fight for at all. When I try to make an attempt, all the courage seems to ooze right out of my body and I feel like a darned jelly-fish.’

  She smiled at him, but there was a misty something in her eyes which he found infinitely attractive.

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said. ‘I could never imagine you lacking courage, no matter what you had to face.’

  ‘Not even at the crisis of my life?’

  ‘No; less than ever then!’

  ‘I guess you’re wrong, Joan, for the crisis is here right now; but I haven’t any courage!’

  She looked at the carpet, her face beginning to burn. She knew that she, too, was facing the crisis of her life, and though she felt unutterably confused, her heart was singing within her and a great thrill of wonder and joy was permeating her whole being. And thus, for some minutes, these two remained without speaking; the one longing, but dreading to declare his love, the other aching to hear him speak, and wanting to help him, but not knowing what to do, or what to say. At last he spoke, and his voice was hoarse with emotion and doubt.

  ‘Joan,’ he said, ‘do you remember I promised to tell you a little story this morning? Gee, it seems longer ago than that!’

  She nodded, but did not raise her head.

  ‘Say,’ he went on desperately, ‘I’m a presumptuous fool ever to think that – that I could reach up to the heights and ask an angel to come down to me; to share my life; to give me a happiness I have never known. Joan, dear, that little tale was the story of my love – I love you! Only God knows how much!’

  Then she looked up. Her face had become more scarlet than ever, but in her eyes was the glory of a love which even he could not mistake. With a great, passionate cry of joy he was on his knees in front of her chair, and had gathered her into his arms.

  ‘Joan, my little Joan!’ he murmured.

  ‘I told you you would never lack courage, dear,’ she said softly.

  A little later Hugh, wearing a pair of carpet slippers, came quietly along the corridor and into the sitting room, stopped dead, backed out and retraced his steps. He met Cousins, and took him by the arm.

  ‘The sitting room is no place for you and me, old chap,’ he said. ‘Come along to my bedroom!’

  A smile appeared on the little man’s face, and went on spreading until nothing could be seen but a mass of wrinkles, each one of which seemed to contain a smile of its own.

  ‘I am undone,’ he said sadly, though his looks belied his words. ‘I, too, loved that lady fair. I hope she won’t rob me of the little love she had for me. “Then mourn not, hapless prince, thy kingdom’s lost; A crown, though late, thy sacred brows may boast; Heaven seems, through us, thy empire to decree, Those who win hearts have given their hearts to thee”.’

  Hugh stopped and looked at the other.

  ‘I had no idea,’ he said, ‘that I was going to lose a sister, and gain a brother-in-law. They seemed to have entirely forgotten that such mundane creatures as you and I existed!’

  Cousins nodded solemnly.

  ‘“How hard it is his passion to confine, I’m sure ’tis so if I may judge by mine!”’ he said.

  ‘For the Lord’s sake come along, and have a drink,’ said Hugh, ‘and let us toast them. A whisky and soda may wash down your poetry, though I doubt it.’

  ‘It’s atmosphere!’ said Cousins apologetically. ‘Just atmosphere.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Which Contains Another Plot

  Once again Novar, Rahtz, and Hudson were gathered together in the former’s bungalow, and, judging from the expression on their faces, their thoughts were far from pleasant ones.

  After his encounter with Miles, Hudson had left the railway station a very worried man. He had driven straight to Novar’s office, where he had poured into the latter’s ear the story of all that had taken place. The Russian used very expressive language in describing his feelings, and immediately got on the telephone to Rahtz, who promised to call at the former’s bungalow in the evening, despite the fact that he had a large party to dinner at his own house. Then again Hudson told his story, and the Principal of Mozang College was even more forcible than Novar had been.

  ‘That comes of trusting a woman,’ he said, when he had used all the oaths he could muster. ‘To think that all our plans to rid ourselves of Shannon should be brought to naught by a female fool with a conscience!’

  ‘We’ve had a narrow escape,’ remarked Novar uneasily. ‘Supposing she had divulged our connection with the business!’

  ‘You’re sure she didn’t?’ inquired Rahtz sharply of Hudson.

  ‘Perfectly certain!’ replied the latter. ‘Miles is too ingenuous not to have given away the fact, if he had known.’

  ‘Do you think that the American is such a fool as he looks?’ asked Novar doubtfully. ‘I don’t like his putting up with the Shannons all this time.’

  Rahtz smiled sarcastically.

  ‘Oh, Miles is a fool right enough! I suppose it is the girl who is the attraction!’

  Hudson started to his feet and swore.

  ‘If that is the case,’ he said, ‘he has me to deal with. I want Joan Shannon and I’m going to get her!’

  ‘Don’t be an idiot, Hudson!’ said Novar. ‘We have more important things to think of than fooling about with women.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I mean to have Joan!’ muttered the other.

  ‘So you shall when Shannon is out of the way,’ laughed Rahtz. ‘In the meantime I am of the opinion that we must put our heads together and devise some means of removing him. I don’t think he is dangerous, but he is a nuisance and nuisances should be obliterated.’

  ‘I agree with you,’ nodded Novar. ‘I have a feeling that sooner or later he will stumble on to our track. He may even suspect us now! I did not like his being in such close conversation with Rainer at the Club last night.’

  ‘Oh, that was natural enough,’ replied Rahtz. ‘The D.C. is just the man in whom he would confide, and no stretch of imagination would make Rainer suspect us. I am quite certain that Shannon is feeling bewildered and probably hopeless at his non-success.’

  ‘But now he knows that someone was behind the Gregson woman in that little affair,’ said Hudson, ‘he has something to go on.’

  ‘What? He will probably guess that the people he is looking for know him and are watching him, that’s all!’

  ‘But don’t you see? If this hadn’t occurred he would have sent a statement to his chief eventually telling him that there was nothing suspicious going on, and now he will know there is.’

  ‘There’s certainly something in that,’ agreed Novar.

  ‘Yes,’ grunted Rahtz; ‘and then he would have been recalled and we might have had Sir Leonard Wallace out here again.’

  ‘God forbid!’ murmured Novar fervently, and Hudson went pale.

  ‘I wond
er if there is a likelihood of his coming out in any case!’ said the latter.

  ‘Not unless there was something very drastic taking place,’ replied Rahtz, and added viciously, ‘Even if he did come we should know, and Wallace would be a dead man within half an hour of his arrival in India.’

  They were busy with their own thoughts for some time after that, then Novar helped himself to a cigar and lit it.

  ‘We’ve had a nasty set-back,’ he said, ‘and I confess that I don’t like it. I don’t like the part Miles has played in it either. They were very quick in finding out where Olive Gregson was really staying, and must have suspected that she gave the wrong address.’

  ‘Undoubtedly they acted at once,’ said Rahtz.

  ‘And that is the very reason why I think that Shannon is perhaps more dangerous than we are aware.’

  ‘Oh, rubbish!’ grunted the other. ‘It wouldn’t take much perspicuity to discover where the girl was living, once they found she was not at the Royal. At the same time I am tired of being bothered by Shannon’s presence in Lahore. We had better remove him without further ado.’

  ‘You don’t mean to kill him?’ asked Hudson.

  ‘Yes; why not?’

  ‘Such a course would cause a tremendous sensation, and be too dangerous to risk!’

  ‘Not a bit,’ scoffed Rahtz. ‘There are many ways of dying in this country. You did not think that I was contemplating an ordinary murder, did you?’

  Hudson nodded slowly.

  ‘My dear fellow,’ went on Rahtz, ‘please give me credit for a little more sense. Shannon’s death would be the most ordinary event in the world, so ordinary that not even the greatest stretch of imagination would make anyone suspect anything but natural causes. And you and Novar and myself would show our great respect for the deceased by following the funeral and sending a wreath – I think forget-me-nots and violets would be most appropriate!’

  Novar laughed.

  ‘You are delightfully callous, my dear Rahtz,’ he said.

  ‘Not callous!’ protested the other. ‘Say rather, helpful. You know what Shakespeare made Cassius say? Every man fears death and in cutting off Shannon now, at the age of thirty or so, we might be doing him the service of saving him thirty or forty years of worry about dying!’